


i hope we never need darkness to hide

by sourwolfclub



Series: even oceans won't keep us apart [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Demigod Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Melissa McCall Finds Out, Pack Family, Platonic Relationships, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Thanksgiving, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-18 22:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwolfclub/pseuds/sourwolfclub
Summary: Stiles visits a river and suddenly becomes royalty right before he spends his first Thanksgiving with the pack. It was only a matter of time before his dad and Melissa found out the whole truth, but the monster attack is really just the cherry on top.





	i hope we never need darkness to hide

**Author's Note:**

> this roughly picks up a week after part 2 ends, but expect a bigger time skip for part 4.
> 
> and also a note on the relationship tags: i have it marked as slash and gen simply bc stiles is waaaaaaay too young to be dating derek romantically at this current point of time in the series, but they will in the very future so just stick by me guys. sterek will live to see the light of day eventually, but it would be better to mark this down as slow burn honestly.
> 
> also, also! i'll be dropping the lapslock tag now. (for those of you who have no idea what lapslock is, it's just 100% lowercase for everything which is how i usually write for this account.) 8k of lapslock was pushing it and seeing as the parts in this series are only going to get _longer_ as time goes on, i thought it would be best. so i went back to edit part 1 and 2 until lapslock is no more. oof, pray for my poor wrists bc they still ache
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy! we finally get the papa stilinski reaction to werewolves and stiles' mate
> 
> (i think i'm gonna go in and flesh this a bit more out bc it's lacking, especially at the end oof)

Stiles almost forgets about Thanksgiving until Derek is asking him what he usually eats to celebrate it and whether he would be open to trying a new dish or two on that day or not.

He nods his head because he does not have half of a brain on a good day and today is definitely not a good day anyway. Derek seems to sense it if his constant hovering is anything to go by – which it is.

Derek scents him for five whole minutes before he nods his head and starts making dinner for tonight. Stiles sits up on the counter and helps by holding bowls for his mate. No one trusts Stiles anywhere near the stove and he has more than proven that he won’t accidentally cut himself with a knife either, but nobody wants to risk that and so he is usually among the ones who take care of cleaning instead.

“Hey, Derek?”

“Hmm?”

Stiles swallows his nerves, focusing on the bowl in his lap instead of meeting Derek’s curious gaze. “Can you take me to the river tomorrow?”

Derek pauses, turning so he’s facing Stiles head on. “The river?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says as he nods his head. “I need to thank the naiads and keep forgetting to ask for a ride.”

“I’m going to guess that this is part of some demigod business that I won’t understand until I see it, right?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Kind of. I’ve never actually met the naiads here before and I don’t want to go alone in case they’re mad I waited so long to give them their proper offerings.”

Derek furrows his brow, thinking of the implications of Stiles’ statement. “And what are the proper offerings?”

“For naiads? Fruits like pears and peaches and maybe beef jerky if I manage to find any that isn’t so salty,” Stiles responds, still staring down at the bowl in his lap. “Oh, and Sprite. I have no idea why, but naiads love that soda.”

“Well, we have plenty of Sprite.” Footsteps approaching and then Derek is standing in front of him, one hand held out for the bowl. Stiles hands it to him silently, waiting. 

Derek peers up into his face. “We’ll have to go to the grocery store for the fruit though. Laura should let me borrow the car as well, so tomorrow, we’ll go to the river. Okay?”

Stiles breathes out steadily, lifting his head to meet Derek’s gaze. “Alright.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Derek asks, his brow furrowed once more.

“No,” Stiles says with a shake of his head. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Derek nods, leaning towards him to rub his cheek against Stiles’ briefly. Stiles smiles, doing the same in return as their mate bond tingles up his arms once more. He hugs Derek around the neck and breathes in his calming scent, wondering again why the bond, the pack, and everything that came with them seemed so easy to takin for him.

Stiles has no idea why he was so hesitant to ask for a ride in the first place, but he is glad that Derek will be the one to take him anyway.

* * *

 

When they set out the next morning, Stiles pokes at Derek’s dazed face until his mate turns to face him in his seat.

“What happened? Why do you look like someone just ran me over?” Stiles asks once he has his attention, fiddling with his seatbelt when Derek only frowns at him momentarily.

“Laura said she’s giving me her car when she leaves for New York in the fall,” Derek mumbles out, blinking back at Stiles when he doesn’t immediately respond. “She said that it would probably be a lot easier in the city to take public transportation instead of the Camaro.”

Stiles blinks again, putting in an effort to unclench his jaw as well. “She’s  _giving_  you the Camaro? Just like that? The one we are currently sitting in right now? That Camaro?”

Derek only shrugs, inserting the key and turning it to start the car. “Yes. At least I won’t have to ask for it anymore when you want me to take you places next year. Plus, Laura said it will be easier on your dad, too, because someone will still be dropping you off and picking you up from school even after she leaves for college.”

“Woah. I didn’t know you guys were that kind of rich, but that’s nice of her either way,” Stiles breathes out, glaring at Derek when he starts to reverse out of the driveway. “Derek, put your seatbelt on or I will gut you.”

“Shut up,” Derek shoots back but does it anyway. “Happy?”

Stiles grins, pulling one of Derek’s CDs out of the glove compartment where Laura tends to keep them. “Not as happy as My Chemical Romance makes you feel.”

Derek chuckles, pulling out of the driveway as Stiles inserts the CD into the car stereo and skips to the third track – Derek’s favorite song on the album. Derek keeps both his hands on the wheel after Stiles snipes at him for that as well and focuses on the road as Stiles mumbles the lyrics to the song playing under his breath. Stiles knows that Derek wants to point out the fact that Stiles claimed he hated the whining rock band just last week, but his mate only grins at the road and starts bellowing the lyrics at the top of his lungs to make Stiles laugh.

They stop at Scott’s soon after that and Stiles runs in to leave the pancakes Derek made earlier that morning then dashes back outside to the car after pressing a kiss to Melissa’s cheek and hugging Scott tightly enough to make him wheeze. Derek has messed with the dials on the stereo while Stiles was inside and now the radio is on, playing pop music from the radio station that Stiles adores, and Derek doesn’t care for at all. Stiles scents his mate for his trouble and buckles himself in again, jiggling his knee to the beat of the song as Derek drives to the grocery store.

Stiles grabs pears, peaches, the largest bag of Doritos that he can find for Derek, and strawberry milk for himself. Derek pays at the checkout line and carries their bag to the car, leaving it in the trunk of the Camaro next to the pack of Sprite they brought along with them. By the time Derek has closed the lid of the trunk, Stiles is already in the passenger’s seat, buckled in, and opening his strawberry milk.

Derek gives him a pointed glare about the drink in his hand and Stiles wants to roll his eyes but just grins back at his mate instead. He takes a quick swig from the bottle then makes sure the cap is on tight before he sets it aside in the cupholder and fiddles with the stereo until Derek’s CD is playing again. Then they are reversing out of their parking spot and Derek is quickly taking them towards the preserve.

Nerves are building up in his stomach and Stiles wants to drink more of his milk, but Derek is driving over rocks and Stiles knows he’ll spill everything if he opens the bottle up again right now. Derek rolls the windows down and Stiles takes a gulp of fresh air, watching the trees fly by them as they approach the area where Stiles knows the old Hale house was. The car slows down as they draw nearer, Derek’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel when they finally reach the clearing and Stiles blinks up at the new foundation now standing where the old house used to be.

“How close is it to being finished?” Stiles asks, trying not to let the anxious feeling in his chest expand into the bond.

But Derek can smell it anyway, so Stiles doesn’t know why he bothered. “Pretty close. Mom said it should be done before Christmas at the earliest.”

Before Christmas. Stiles works to keep his breathing steady, staring at the unfinished three-story house while Derek parks not too far away. He turns off the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt before he shifts in his seat and holds his arms out towards Stiles. Stiles scrambles over the counsel and dives into his embrace, scenting Derek while his mate does the same in return.

“I knew you guys weren’t going to stay with us forever, but I didn’t really think about how long it would be,” Stiles murmurs into Derek’s arm, face pressed into his bicep.

Derek rubs the back of his neck and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. “Mom asked me where we should put your room and I told her to just put you with me because I don’t think I can sleep anymore unless you’re beside me. You help me a lot with my nightmares, but if you want your own room in the new house, I know Mom can still make it somehow.”

Stiles knows exactly what nightmares Derek is talking about and just thinking about them always causes sharp and bitter pain to ping around in his chest. Derek usually wakes up from his nightmares silently, but rigid, and that is the only indicator Stiles gets because the warm body he was curled up with is now cold and hard. He wraps his arms around Derek each time and waits until his mate can move again, when the paralyzing fear has finally bled away, and Derek is left exhausted enough to sleep again.

Of course, Stiles has his own nightmares and the usual multitude of dreams that demigods are forced to have, but he knows that Derek has it worse right now and just the thought of not being able to sleep beside him spikes his anxiety. Still, there is something Stiles isn’t quite grasping here.

“My own room?”

“Stiles, you’re pack. Mom’s our alpha and she, of course, would think about the fact that you’ll be staying with us often,” Derek mumbles into his hair. “It feels weird when you’ve been away from the pack for too long, even for humans.”

“But my own room? I thought a house key would have been just as fine, not my own room,” Stiles replies, moving until his cheek is pressed to Derek’s chest.

His own room means that they will expect him to be around often enough to make use of it and Stiles is still waiting for the moment Talia will tell him it was a mistake and he will have to leave the pack because he isn’t a good fit and brings too much trouble with him. The pack is often over at his own home half the time and he gets beaten up less often, but he knows that he accepted the pack and everything with it as easily as he did because  _his_  issues would be the deal breaker when it came down to it. Except, Stiles might just be overreacting like he tends to do, so he needs to let this train of thought go before it ruins his good mood and bites him back hard when they get to the river. Derek holds him tighter to his chest when the smell of Stiles’ apprehension rises around them and he can hear Derek’s steady heartbeat, so he focuses on that to calm his own.

“Do you want your own room in the new house?” Derek asks, keeping his voice low and smooth.

“Not really,” Stiles mumbles, and then, because he doesn’t how to keep his mouth shut, he says, “I can’t sleep without you either. I’ve tried taking plenty of naps while you aren’t there, and it’s never worked.”

Derek’s heart starts beating faster and Stiles smiles when their mate bond travels up from his fingertips to tingle in his chest around his own heart because it’s warm and glows gold like honey. “Okay. So, we’ll just share one then, for the nights you and Scott sleepover. Mom made him his own room because she’s banking on the fact that you’ll both ask her to turn him soon. Nobody likes the sound of his lungs.”

Stiles winces, recalling the look on Cora’s face when Scott started coughing last week at school. “I don’t want him turned until he’s absolutely sure. Until Melissa knows and has given the okay. I know how bad his asthma is, but he’s tough and I know he can live with it at least for a few more years.”

“You’re going to tell Melissa?”

“She deserves that much at least.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong there. When do you plan to tell her?” Derek asks, loosening his grip when Stiles starts to move away from his chest.

Stiles shrugs, biting his lip before releasing it and sighing aloud. “On Thanksgiving. Dad and I had talked about telling her about me then when I got back from camp. He knows that I told Scott already by now, so it’s Melissa’s turn.”

Derek nods. “Okay, then we’ll just tell her about us as well. Mom will probably extend the offer to turn Scott, but she won’t force Melissa into it either. We should tell your dad by then, too. Him not knowing has felt weird.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Stiles stifles a laugh. “I just don’t know what he’s going to say about us being mates. He might not let you sleep in my room anymore and then I’ll be cranky from my lack of sleep and you’ll just look like someone stabbed you in the arm.”

“Shut up,” Derek chuckles, leaning down to breathe over Stiles’ scalp before letting him go. “We’ll deal with it on Thanksgiving. Right now, let’s go deal with the river, yeah?”

Stiles crawls back into the passenger’s seat and opens the door, shooting a grin at Derek over his shoulder. “Let’s go feed some naiads!” 

Derek doesn’t respond, but he pops open the trunk anyway and climbs out of the Camaro with an answering grin of his own on his face. Stiles takes the Doritos out of the bag and leaves them in the trunk while Derek hefts the pack of Sprite out and closes the lid of the trunk, locking the car afterward. Stiles sends out feelers to make sure that the river is still in the same direction and heads off once he has locked onto it. Derek could probably lead them toward to it as well just from smell or hearing alone, but Stiles wants to look like he knows what he’s doing because he asked Derek to come with him and Derek  _trusts_  him. Stiles can’t blunder around and hope for the best like he has before, he needs to be sure of every move he makes once the naiads are alerted of their presence or they will both be stuck in a river forever and Derek can’t breathe underwater like he can.

The woods are as close to quiet as they can be with all the chattering little animals out and about, but Stiles smiles and keeps glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Derek is near. The mate bond is tingling in his fingertips though and that should be enough to tell Stiles that already, but he is wary, and something tells him things are not going to go as planned.

They are still a quarter of a mile away from the river when Stiles passes by a very twisted trunk of a tree and golden light flashes through the woods.

Stiles shuts his eyes and spins on the spot, clamping his hand over Derek’s. “Don’t look! Keep your eyes closed!”

“Really, there’s no need for these dramatics, Stiles. I’m not in my godly form,” a voice he doesn’t recognize speaks.

“How do I know you’re not lying? Everyone knows a golden light means a god,” Stiles shoots back, peering through his eyelashes as he lets his hand fall away from Derek’s face.

Derek’s eyes are shut tight, a frown marring his face, but Stiles no longer sees a golden glow shining on their surroundings so maybe the god isn’t lying. Still not a good enough reason for him to turn around and see for himself.

The god speaks again, their voiced laced with humor, “It isn’t polite to make someone have a conversation with your backside, Stiles. I’m sure your mother taught you proper manners when it comes to someone who outranks you.”

“You say that as if I’m some soldier or a slave,” Stiles spits out, his anger flaring up like a flash bomb at the mere mention of his mother.

He sighs and turns around, glaring at the god. Derek tenses behind him, but Stiles only grins because the winged hat and shoes are unmistakable. “Hermes. What brings you to this little town of ours? Do you have a message to deliver?”

Hermes crosses his arms over his chest and smiles back, a mischievous glint to his eyes that has Stiles automatically reaching for his medallion. “No message. Just a personal request I must ask of you.”

“Derek, you can open your eyes now,” Stiles mumbles behind him, taking care to not let his eyes off Hermes. “What’s your request? If it requires me to travel out of state, I’m going to have decline right now.”

“Why, if I may ask?” Hermes asks, the glint in his eyes hardening. “Is it because of your mate?”

Stiles blinks, taken aback. “How do you–?”

Hermes’ grin tightens. “None of the gods are very happy with the fact that you managed to find each other again so soon, Stiles. Do be careful with your mate from here on out because they  _will_  try and tear you two apart. That’s a kind warning from me to gain your favor. Take it in good faith. Now, back to my first question. A clear answer would be preferred.”

 _Again?_  Stiles thinks to himself, fighting a wince back when Derek steps closer to him, shadowing over him and probably glaring at Hermes for the feelings he can smell coming off Stiles right now. Stiles doesn’t have the patience to deal with any of this though and he is tired of the gods thinking they can push him around enough that he’ll only ask, “how high?” if they tell him to jump.

“I’m grounded, Hermes. I’m not allowed to go out-of-state for another two weeks, so unless your request can wait, I would suggest that you find somebody else to carry it out.”

“Grounded? Is that all?” Hermes lets his arms fall to his sides, rifling through his messenger bag. “That can be easily fixed. I’m certain I have the correct paperwork in here to make you ungrounded.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, reaching behind him to grab Derek’s arm when his mate takes another step forward. “Not how it works, Hermes. I’m busy and I can’t go running off on a quest you’ve asked me to take on. I’m sorry, but I’m not the demigod you need for this.”

“You are exactly the demigod I need for this quest,” Hermes pouts, crossing his arms over his chest once more now that he isn’t looking through his bag. “This requires a child of the Big Three, Stiles, and you are the only available one to do it.”

“I knew it was a quest! I’m not available, so don’t write me down for it. You gods need to learn what the word ‘No’ means.”

Hermes’ eye twitches. “Stiles, I need someone to help my son get to camp. He’s traveling with another child of the Big Three and they are in danger. There is another girl with them, younger than you, and I fear they won’t make it through winter if they continue the way they are.”

Derek bumps into him then, wrapping an arm around his waist as Stiles feels his knees begin to shake. Maybe Stiles would have accepted the quest beforehand, but since meeting his mate and gaining a pack, he can’t begin to be so reckless with his life. The Hales took their time to learn from him, to train every day so anybody in the family can defend themselves against the monsters that Stiles attracts all so that Stiles could be safer. Going on a quest means that Stiles stands a high chance of dying, a higher chance that he isn’t willing to take right now.

But there’s a kid in trouble. A kid younger than him even who  _needs_  help. Stiles doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, his voice in Stiles’ ear.

Stiles shakes himself, eyes flickering up to meet Hermes’. “I’m sorry, but I  _can’t_. The Hales risk their lives every day for me and going on a quest would only result in my own death. I can’t do that to them or my dad. I’m sorry, Hermes, but you need to find someone else.”

He holds his breath, expecting Hermes to go supernova on him, but the messenger god only sighs and looks up into the trees as he closes his eyes. His posture slumps in defeat and he lowers his hand into his bag once more, taking a parcel out and tossing it towards Stiles. Derek unwraps his arm from around Stiles and catches it, pressing it into Stiles’ free hand before he replaces his arm and holds him steady. Stiles only continues to look at Hermes, waiting for him to say something.

“It was worth a shot,” Hermes murmurs softly enough that Stiles could pretend he never heard him. “That package is from Chiron. Medical supplies, a few letters, and your usual allowance of drachmas. I’ll be on my way now. You should both close your eyes.”

Derek turns him quickly so that Stiles’ face is buried in his chest and then tucks his own face into Stiles’ shoulder as the air around them heats up and the trees glow with golden light once more. There’s a popping sound like that of a soda can being opened and then the woods are back to normal, the gold light now gone again.

Stiles pushes in close until he can hear Derek’s heartbeat again and breathes out slowly, stepping back to look up at his mate. Derek is frowning and biting at his lip, but not saying anything so Stiles only nods and turns around, leading the way to the river once more.

Soon enough, Derek is sniffing around and keeping stride with Stiles as they approach their destination and a few minutes later, Stiles himself can smell flowing water and a muddy bank. Derek raises a brow at him when he deliberately sniffs at the air but says nothing as they continue to walk with earnest.

They break through the trees afterward and Stiles quickly finds a large rock on the riverbed to sit down on. Derek opens the package of Sprite and then takes the grocery bag from Stiles to pull out the peaches and pears while Stiles holds his hands out for a few of them and lobs them into the flowing water underneath them. He bows his head and leans over the edge of the rock to press his palms flat to the river’s surface, pushing his own will into the water in the hopes of purifying it.

A tug in his gut is the only sign he gets to know that it worked until the water starts to glow blue and surges up in the form of a naiad.

Derek goes very still behind him, his hands gripping on tight to Stiles’ shirt as Stiles slowly pushes himself up then leaves his own hands in plain view on top of his thighs. The naiad stares at him, her blue eyes glowing slightly as her hair flows behind her. She is made completely of water and Stiles can see through her, but he focuses on keeping her gaze instead in case she finds that rude.

“Your offer has been accepted, little one. I and the creatures of my river accept you as ours,” she speaks, her voice reminding Stiles of a gurgling stream.

“I just wanted to come and say thanks for helping me put out the fire. Sorry for taking so long,” Stiles replies, blinking up at her in confusion. “Err, was there a memo I missed somewhere?”

The naiad laughs. “I am Kharmion and you are my rightful prince, son of the sea. When it is time for your father to step down from the throne, we will support you without having to be asked.”

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, a tiny flare of anger building up in his chest. “I won’t contest for the throne but thank you anyway.”

Kharmion nods and smiles, leaning in so she can cup Stiles’ face with both her hands. “We shall see what you decide when the time comes. For now, I must thank you for clearing my river of litter and offering a great meal to me. Should you ever need my help again, little one, you will not have to ask for I offer it to you willingly as my liege.”

Stiles blushes as the anger abruptly dies, waving a hand behind him until Derek presses a can of Sprite into his palm. “Thank you? I also have some Sprite if you would like that as well?”

“Sprite? Ah, splendid!” Kharmion lights up as Stiles opens the can and pours it into the river, sighing when the can has gone empty. “A worthy refreshment for your new sword, my liege.”

“Yep, well, we have a few more. I’ll just empty them and be on my way,” Stiles stutters out, feeling his face warm even more as Derek hands him two more cans before his mate upends the two sodas he was holding in his own hands.

Kharmion is still glowing when Stiles finally manages to bid her a hasty goodbye and makes a retreat into the woods back the way they came. Derek doesn’t say anything as they walk with the grocery bag swinging in his hand, the rest of their stuff and trash tied up in it, but Stiles knows he wants to say  _something_. His eyebrows are doing that thing again and Stiles wants to curl up somewhere and not think for a while.

Derek leads the way back to the Camaro and once there, Stiles climbs into the backseat and mutters something about dumb politics under his breath as Derek laughs and drives them back home.

* * *

 

“I have an announcement to make,” Talia says in a steady voice that carries around the large table that is actually just two tables pushed together in Stiles’ backyard.

There is a tent set up over them that he, Scott, and Derek’s father struggled with and two space heaters Laura refused to give up until the baby Carson started kicking up a fuss at the cold. Scott is on his left with Derek on his right and they keep depositing vegetables onto his plate when he isn’t looking, but he eats them without complaining anyway.

Talia is sitting at one end of the table with Dean and Peter flanking her while Stiles’ father sits at the other end with Melissa and Laura beside him. Plenty of the others are still busy eating what is on their plates, but Talia’s is empty and the glass she holds up over their heads is filled with water instead of the wine that her husband and brother are drinking.

His alpha is smiling wide and her cheeks are flushed with warmth, except that isn’t what makes Stiles freeze in his seat.

“I’m pregnant.”

Derek is up and out of his seat almost immediately, scenting and hugging his mother furiously enough to make even the Sheriff raise a brow. Stiles groans inwardly when his father turns to stare at him, but he’s much more focused on Talia’s answer when Melissa asks her how far along is she in the pregnancy because Talia is thin, but even he noticed that her stomach has been sticking out a lot more often lately.

“Four months, so this is another thing on a very long list that we have to be grateful for Stiles saving us,” Talia says, her smile soft when she turns her gaze on him. “Stiles, it seems I owe you the lives of  _all_  my children, but even if I didn’t, you will always be pack.”

Stiles’ mouth goes dry, his heart picking up speed in his chest as he watches Derek shift into his beta form before he turns to face the other end of the table. He can  _hear_  the moment his father figures it out, but Melissa’s terrified gasp still hits him like a punch to the gut.

The Sheriff puts a hand on Melissa’s arm to calm her then turns back to the table at large before focusing on Stiles. “Werewolves, Stiles? I know you attract an odd number of supernatural creatures, but I never expected this.”

“They’re  _mine_ , Dad,” Stiles whines, knowing that he sounds exactly like a kid and banking on that fact alone to be all that his father needs to leave it alone.

But it isn’t and Stiles should have known better. “Why? Not everyone you save ends up as yours, kid. What made them so different?”

He can see Talia gearing up to answer his father’s question, but Derek is back to being completely human while he avoids Stiles’ gaze and that just won’t do. “Because  _Derek is mine_ , Dad. I’m his mate. The kind of mate that werewolves have, not the British. Like a soulmate, sort of.”

“It is exactly like a soulmate,” Talia butts in then, her eyes shifting from their normal gray to a dark, glowing red. “And I can smell the anger coming from you, Sheriff, but you should know that things between our sons are completely  _platonic_  and will remain as such until Stiles is of age and they  _both_  decide that they would like something different. We do not get a say in that.”

“Maybe not, but I  _do_  get a say in the matter of them sharing a bed every night.”

Stiles flinches with panic already gripping him by the throat from just the thought of not being able to sleep with Derek nearby. Derek is beside him in an instant, a hand gripping Stiles’ neck as the pack tenses. Scott is standing up as well, but he only puts himself firmly between Stiles and Derek and his mom and the Sheriff.

“Mr. Stilinski, I’m his best friend and you know that I would never let anything bad happen to Stiles or let anybody continue to stay near him if they meant him any harm. Derek is a really nice guy and it’s cool that he’s older than us because that means he’ll take care of us and nothing less,” Scott huffs out, his chin jutted out in sheer stubbornness.

“Scott, man, it’s okay,” Stiles whispers to him, but Scott won’t budge, and Stiles had not really expected him to anyway.

He looks over Scott’s hip to look at his father then and tries for a smile as their gazes meet. “Dad, it really isn’t like that at all. Derek and I have already talked about things and we both agreed that it isn’t going to be anything like that soon either. Trust me on this, please.”

“Why did you keep this a secret from me then, kid? You’ve never kept secrets from me before,” his father points out as he crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. “I  _know_  that things aren’t like that, I believe you, but you didn’t tell me about it.”

Stiles shakes his head. “It wasn’t for me to say. The Hales are my pack now and that means that I must keep their secret until our alpha has given the okay. I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t.”

“Alpha? Does that mean Mrs. Hale is your mother now?” His father asks and Stiles can’t help but wince again at just the thought.

“A mother figure, like Ms. McCall, Dad. Not my  _new_  mother,” Stiles murmurs as he tries not to think about why that hurts him so much to say.

Derek’s grip on him tightens, but not enough to hurt – never enough to hurt – and Stiles melts into it. His father stares at him as he does it, but once Stiles has settled, the fight seems to melt out of him too. Melissa, on the other hand, is another story altogether.

“Werewolves? This doesn’t surprise you? How could it not, John? Our sons are hanging out with wolves and that doesn’t bother you!”

Talia’s eyes flash red again, but then they return back to normal as she takes a deep breath before calmly saying, “With all due respect, Melissa, we wolves are the furthest thing from dangerous to your children. Stiles and Scott are a part of our pack and that means we will protect them to the best of our abilities and it also means that we will offer the bite to Scott when he is ready so that his asthma will no longer be a problem.”

Stiles grabs onto Scott’s wrist the same moment that Derek tugs him towards them with an arm over his chest because he’s  _pack_  and really, Stiles should have figured that out earlier. 

Melissa blinks back at Talia, her shoulders tense. “His asthma would be gone if he became like you?”

“Not exactly gone,” Peter pipes up. “He will still have asthma, but it will no longer be a problem for him unless he intentionally provokes it. Becoming a werewolf isn’t a cure-all and despite our accelerated healing abilities, we can still die, but asthma will not be the reason the pack will lose Scott. Not if we can help it, anyway.”

“But he would technically be cured, right?” Melissa asks once more.

“Right,” Talia nods her head. “The bite does not come without complications, however, and that is only half the reason we decided to tell you the whole truth. Scott always stands a chance of dying from the bite, but Peter and I are fairly certain that chance is actually quite low.”

Melissa nods, her shoulders relaxing. “Then we’ll discuss it in more detail later. For now, I want to know more about Stiles supposedly attracting supernatural creatures.”

Scott and Derek shuffle around until Stiles can meet her gaze and he flinches back when he sees the sternness there. “Young man, have you ever put Scott in danger because of this?”

Stiles wants to stand up and deny anything she might be thinking, but this is Melissa, the woman who refused to leave his father and him alone after his mother died, who was always glad to see him whenever he would come over to play with Scott. The same woman who had not let him go for the entirety of his mother’s funeral and let him sleep in her bed sandwiched between her and Scott that very night. He can’t lie to her.

“He’s in danger just by being my friend, just like my dad is in danger just by being my dad. I’ve always been careful to never put him in direct danger of anything that happens to be chasing me that day though. I would never forgive myself is Scott were to get hurt because of me,” Stiles finally says, grimacing when Scott turns his head to glare at him.

Then the wolves tense and Stiles immediately shifts from scared kid to experienced monster killer, standing up and walking around the table only to stop beside Talia. “Which direction?”

“Straight ahead. It’s coming this way, but I believe it would be safer to meet it in the woods where none of your neighbors can see,” Talia responds. “I believe it is safe to say that the scent blocker did not, in fact, work. I’ll get Deaton to concoct something stronger.”

“It was worth a shot,” Stiles says as he tugs on his medallion and his breastplate forms over him. “Dad stay here and explain everything else about me to Ms. McCall, please. Scott you, too. You have the dagger I gave you, right?”

Scott pulls a string on the new friendship bracelet around his wrist and turns his hand, so he ends up with a golden dagger in his palm. “Always keep it on me, just in case.”

Stiles nods, a slight grin on his face. “Good. Do not use it unless it is absolutely necessary. Do not engage unless you have no other choice. Your job is to protect our parents in case that thing isn’t alone. Just yell and someone will come running back. Alright?”

“Why can’t I go with you? You taught me how to use this for a reason, you know,” Scott pouts, already walking towards his mother who has a scandalized expression spread across her face as she eyes the dagger in Scott’s hand.

“I did and you know the reason, so stop pushing, Scott. I gave you that so you can protect yourself when I can’t. Stay here and guard the house, do not go running into the woods after us or I will tie you to your chair. We do  _not_  need your asthma to act up on top of everything else right now. Please, Scott,” Stiles pleads, eyes imploring as they meet Scott’s gaze and maybe he’s being too harsh on his best friend right now, but this is important.

Scott sighs and nods his head, sitting in his mother’s abandoned chair as Stiles faces the rest of the pack. “Alpha and Lupa, lead the way then flank me when we find it. Cora stick to the border of the woods so you can come help Scott in case he needs it. Aunt Samantha stay here with Scott and the baby and Uncle Peter, you scout the area for any other unwelcome guests. Laura flank Uncle Peter and Derek, you’re with me as well. Let’s go.”

Stiles runs into the woods without another word, unsurprised when the pack follows his orders because Talia may be their Alpha, but she granted Stiles authority that overrides hers in this category. He knows Talia doesn’t exactly enjoy it either, so he is always very careful to never order her around more than what is needed. She’s pregnant now though and Stiles knows that his alpha is a lot tougher than other pregnant women, but that won’t stop him keeping her from getting directly involved in the fight.

She stops at a clearing and moves until she’s flanking him in beta shift as her husband and son follow. Peter and Laura slide into the trees and disappear as they scout, but then reappear quickly afterward with a shake of their heads.

It is only the one monster coming and Stiles unsheathes his swords, readying his stance as the sounds of trees and underbrush being trampled on approaches them. There is a neighing sound and Stiles goes into overdrive trying to think of how to knock the rider off their steed so he won’t have to break his oath.

Stiles raises his swords as the monster approaches then completely freezes as it breaks through the trees into their little clearing. He can hear the others yelling at him for guidance, trying to understand his game plan, but Stiles can’t move.

The monster stomps the ground and cries out, bucking forward and back. Its wings are bronze, and its hind legs are that of a rooster, but the front is all horse. It tosses its mane of hair back and surges forward before buckling under its unproportioned legs then fights to stand back up. Stiles feels sick just looking at it.

_My Lord, it hurts. Help me! Kill me, please!_

Something wet splashes on his cheek and Stiles steps back as it approaches, falling backward as he stumbles. Derek is standing over him in a second and Stiles cries out when Peter swoops in and sends the monster to Tartarus in a shower of gold dust. Derek picks him up and scent marks him silently, feeling his anguish and hurt through their mate bond. The pack is dead silent as they return to the Stilinski’s backyard, but Stiles cannot focus on that.

Everything hurts too much, but the hurt only amplifies when they make it back and his father rushes to him with Melissa and Scott not that far behind asking if he is okay and what happened to make Stiles look like he does know. Derek only shakes his head and reluctantly presses him into Melissa’s arms when she demands to hold him for herself and make sure he is okay and uninjured. Stiles doesn’t make a sound, but he knows that he needs to get his act together already.

He’s a kid, by age, but he cannot afford to act like one and he almost cost them back there. He knows that the pack froze when he did. They could have gotten hurt or died because of him.

“Stiles, honey, what was it?” Melissa asks, her voice soothing.

Stiles looks up to meet her gaze, focusing on her instead of everyone present as he wills the words out of his mouth. “Hippalektryon. A half-rooster, half-horse monster Athena created to mock Poseidon when Pegasus was born.”

“Did it talk to you, Stiles?”

Stiles looks up towards his father and frowns when a new wave of fresh tears spill over onto his face. “It was in so much pain, Dad. It  _wanted_  to die, but I just froze. I couldn’t do it. I  _wouldn’t_.”

It feels stupid to be this hung up over it since Stiles has faced worse things than this, but his dad will understand. His dad knows about the oath and how he can hear them in his head sometimes. His dad will know how much it hurt him and will help him take care of it accordingly simply  _because_  he understands.

“Poseidon, Lord of the Horses,” Peter whispers, eyes wide when Stiles turns to focus on him next. “You can’t harm a horse, can you? No matter how twisted it has become.”

“I  _won’t_.”

Peter nods. “Then I’m glad I did it for you, Stiles. None of us wish to even think about what could have befallen you should you have harmed what you are only meant to protect.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, his voice small when Melissa’s grip on him tightens. “I’m acting like a child when I almost ruined everything back there.”

“You  _are_  a child, Stiles. My child,” his father huffs out, holding his arms out for Melissa to pass him over and keeps him close to his chest. “You’re allowed to act your age once in a while, kid.”

Stiles only shakes his head, trembling in relief now that his father’s comforting scent is wrapping around him. “Not during a fight. The pack was waiting for me to do something so they could follow my lead and I didn’t  _do_  anything. They could have gotten hurt because of me.”

Derek presses a napkin to his face and wipes his tears and snot away. “We were focused on you. Uncle Peter took care of it anyway, Stiles. It isn’t like you expected for it to happen. You couldn’t have known what was coming towards us and nobody is mad at you.”

Stiles closes his eyes and buries his face in his father’s chest, letting himself be held. “I’m sorry. It’s still my fault that I didn’t tell any of you before.”

“Then you can tell us everything tomorrow,” Talia speaks up, pressing a hand to his scalp in comfort. “Tonight, we will finish our Thanksgiving dinner, we will eat to our hearts’ desires, and tomorrow we will speak about everything and set up plans because you aren’t doing things alone anymore, Stiles. You are pack and we will protect you.”

Scott tugs on his jeans and laughs when Stiles yelps as the material gets dragged down his hips. “Come on, man. Let’s eat. You can cry into your mashed potatoes.”

“Shut up,” Stiles mumbles into his father’s chest, but then turns to face everyone again with a watery smile and heavy relief in his chest. “Thank you for keeping me in your lives and helping me when you don’t have to. I’m very thankful for each and every one of you.”

“As are we for you,” Derek says back, sending a rush of warmth and care through their bond as Stiles is put back on his feet and immediately tackled in a group hug.

Stiles grins, his face still blotchy with tears, but he’s warm now because they are right. He’s just a kid, no matter how powerful or mature others may consider him. With a pack and family bent on protecting him, Stiles is allowed to be a kid and that alone is enough to comfort him.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> you can check out my "progress report" tag on [tumblr](https://sourwolfclub.tumblr.com) if you're interested in how part 4 is coming along (:
> 
> and spoiler: we get camp half-blood in part 4 so i hope you're all as excited as i am for it bc we'll be seeing some familiar and new faces!


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